Tea
by TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010
Summary: A follow-up to "Chicken Soup" It's Jude's turn to be sick this time, but Max isn't quite as willing to take care of him. Fluff -oneshot- Max/Jude sort of.


**So, I decided to make a "sequel" to my last Max/Jude fic.**

**Just for the fun of it D**

**Yes, I realize I have written about 5 fics/chapters in the past week, but bear with me.**

**Takes place about a week after the last one did. If you haven't read "Chicken Soup," I suggest you read it, though it is not required to understand this one. Some of the jokes will refer to the last one.**

**Still not true-blue Max/Jude. Sorry.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Across the Universe or any characters.**

**--**

**Tea**

"Hey, sis," Max said as he walked into his apartment, arriving home from a long day of cabbie-ing. He walked into the kitchen, where she was fiddling with makeup in the mirror, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Ready to hit the town?"

"Can't. I've got work." He then noticed Lucy was clad in her traditional waitress uniform, and he gave himself a mental slap.

"Right, of course. Well, at least there's our good Englishman-"

"Actually, there isn't. He's pretty sick. Probably with what you had last week."

As if on cue, horrible, retching coughs emanated from Jude's bedroom, causing both of them to wince worriedly in the direction of his bedroom door.

"Sadie and JoJo have a gig, of course Pru is going, I hate to leave him here…"she trailed off, looking expectantly at her older brother. He glanced behind him, hoping she was referring to some kind, caring person who had popped up over his shoulder. When he only saw the couch, he groaned as he turned back to her.

"_Luuu-ce_, I've had a fourteen hour day of chauffeuring bitchy, clueless tourists, and I was really looking forward to have a night out."

"Would you? I mean, he did the same for you!"

"Well, what did _he _do all that day, hmm?" Lucy grimaced. "Exactly. He sat on his ass day doodling lovely pictures of you, _so_ I don't think our situations can be considered similar."

She slid on her coat and walked over to her brother with large, pleading azure eyes, something she knew her brother would not be able to handle. Sure enough, he gave a dramatic sigh and finally muttered a "_Fine._"

She hugged him tightly. "Thank you, he'll appreciate it, I'm sure."

"He better," he grumbled in response. She let him go, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then dashed out the door. Max collapsed onto the couch, grasping the afghan and wrapping it around his lanky frame in a huff.

Hours crawled by, and not a sound came from Jude's bedroom door, except for the occasional sneeze or cough. Max tried to busy himself by going through almost an entire box of Cap'n Crunch, watching the two television channels they had, and even picking up a scrap piece from his friend's sketchbook and drawing a little. But his mind wandered easily, and all of those things became boring after a while.

Finally, almost to his delight, the bedroom door opened and out shuffled Jude, hair wild, eyes barely open, and face a sickly pale. Max tried to suppress a smile as he glanced his friend up and down, taking a hearty swig from the Jack Daniels he had scrounged out of the fridge.

"You look like _shit_." Jude gave a weak chuckle as he fell into one of the armchairs.

"Feel the same way. Thanks for giving it to me, ya git," he groused, half-heartedly chucking a pillow in his best mate's direction. Max caught it easily and placed it in his lap.

"That's what you get for being a good friend. You need to learn to live my way; you don't give a shit about anyone or anyone's problems except your own."

"Piss off. You owe me big time for all the bloody things I did for you when you were ill." Before he could continue, he began to retch again, forcing him to pull out his handkerchief and hack the mucous that lined his throat.

"_Blimey_…" he exclaimed, his voice cracking hoarsely. He burrowed deep into the chair, letting his head to fall back against the wall. "You weren't joking about the inability to breathe, were you?"

"Nope," Max replied, pretending to be vindicated by Jude's stuffy sniffles. "And if I remember correctly… ah yes, that's right, you _laughed_ at me."

"I was laughing at your inane ramblings of your untimely death, not at your inability to breathe."

"I still felt like a piece of crap, and you just sat there and _laughed_." He looked dead serious as he proclaimed this, which infuriated Jude to no end.

"Well, you-" Jude groaned as his head began to throb, digging in his palms into his eyes in a failed attempt to stop the pain. This time, Max was the one who chuckled wickedly.

"It is _so_ fun to piss you off, you know that right?"

"Shut it," he growled, though a slight grin played at his lips. Max reached to take another swig from his bottle but scowled in discontent when he found it empty. He now had just run out of things to do.

"Don't expect me to make you food or anything," he commented for the sake of argument. Jude resumed his previous position with his head to the wall, shutting his eyes tiredly.

"Don't want any, I have the feeling it'd end up in the toilet two seconds after I swallowed it. I would like some tea, though."

"I am not your mother, for God's sake-"

"Max, please," he asked wearily. His best friend may have seemed like a tough person to crack, but Jude had learned that if you: a) asked with enough sincerity, b) were someone he loved or cared about or c) were somewhat attractive, he would be wrapped around your finger in no time. Sure enough, after a few moments of looking at him with big, soulful brown eyes, Max rolled eyes and sighed, getting up from his comfortable position on the couch.

"Fine, fine, you didn't have to give me the Bambi eyes," he muttered as he shuffled into the kitchen, looking through the cupboards. Jude closed his eyes once more, hoping that he'd be able to get a quick nap, drink some tea, and then possibly be able to get back to his sketching

"Um…Jude?"

No such luck.

"Yeah, mate?"

"Where's the tea?"

"It's behind the chicken soup."

There was a lot of loud rummaging, then Max's muffled voice calling "No, it's not!"

"…Yes, it is. I put it there this morning." Max huffed in frustration.

"I'm _looking_ at the chicken soup, Jude, and there is no tea behind it." Jude muttered various expletives and pulled himself out of the chair, squinting painfully as he stepped into the brightly lit kitchen. Not to his surprise, the box of tea bags lay on the counter with a medley of other things his friend had pulled haphazardly out of the cabinet.

"I'm telling you, there is _no_ tea in here. I see Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup and Sadie's Magnificent Bag of Marijuana and…oh…" Jude had tapped him impatiently on the shoulder and held up the box of tea in front of his face. He took it sheepishly and flashed him a smile. "Sorry, man."

"The things I have to do…" Jude trailed off before disappearing back into the living room. Max immediately got to work on the tea. As Jude waited, things seemed to be going alright, though it was taking him much longer than he expected to make a simple pot of tea.

"_SHIT!!_"

"The hell did you do?"

Max appeared in the doorway a moment later, holding one of his hands and massaging it painfully.

"Oh, nothing. I just about burned my hand off when the fucking pot boiled over, _that's all_."

Just then, a impending, loud sizzle emanated from the kitchen, to which the blonde's eyes grew wide and muttered a quiet "Fuck." before scampering out of sight. Jude shook his head in exasperation as frantic banging, shouted profanities, and a thoroughly odd scent spewed from the kitchen. _Only Max could make preparing one blooming pot of tea so difficult_ he thought bitterly to himself.

Finally, ten minutes later, he shuffled cautiously into the living room, hair sticking up in all different directions and a prominent black streak blemishing his fair skin, with a steaming mug of tea in his hands. The Liverpudlian couldn't help but chuckle.

"What in God's name…?"

"The oven mitt decided to burst into flames…well, okay, so it was right next to the range, but still! The tea and the kitchen are fine, though it might smell like burnt fabric in there for a while," he responded before handing Jude the mug. After Max plopped onto the couch, Jude raised his mug towards him. He took a sip, letting the deliciously warm liquid swish in his mouth before swallowing it, temporarily relieving his aching throat.

"Well? Is it good enough so that it was worth me having scalding hot water poured over my innocent flesh, dropping the mug on my foot, and coming close to setting the entire apartment on fire?"

"Mm…I'm not sure it was worth all that, but it is good. Not as good as me mum's, though, and she can do it without going through that much trouble."

"Well, _good for your mum_," Max retorted indignantly, momentarily adopting a terrible Liverpool accent. "See if I ever make tea for you again…"

"Fine! It's lovely! It's smashing!" Jude exclaimed grandly, causing some of his tea to spill over, to which he winced in pain. His best friend sat back in satisfaction, again wrapping the afghan around his frame.

After finishing his tea, he set the mug down on the lamp stand and attempted to drift off to sleep, as he still wasn't up for any drawing at the moment.

"You mind tossing me the blanket?" Max only scowled at him.

"Come on, man. I go out of my way to make you feel better, and now you expect me to give up the blanket at the cost of my own comfort? I think not. Get your own."

Jude groaned and grumbled a "Never mind" before joining Max on the couch, not finding the small armchair comfy anymore. He stretched his legs out a little, leaning his head against the arm rest, and promptly began to shiver. As the blonde watched his friend tremble helplessly, he couldn't help remembering flinging himself atop a very warm Jude when he was in the same situation. Not that he would allow Jude to do such a thing, although he did look _awfully_ cold…

"Oh, for God's sake," he mumbled and swiftly shrugged the blanket off his shoulders, pulling Jude into his lap at the same time. He spread the afghan across both of them as the Englishman watched in sleepy confusion.

"What're you doin'?"

"You made me feel bad, alright? There, you satisfied? Max Carrigan gave a shit about somebody else, for once."

Jude chuckled. "Don't give me that rubbish. You give a shit about plenty of people, and I happen to be one of them. Otherwise, you wouldn't have bothered making me tea."

"No, you listen to me, Jude Feeney," Max snarled as he looked down on a very amused Jude. "I don't care about anybody else but me, you understand? You…you just happened to be sick and…my heart of stone melted a little, alright? People make mistakes."

"Whatever you say, mate."

"Psh…me…care about anyone…you're insane."

"Of course."

"I mean, come on, I haven't given you anything since we've been here, have I, not including this?"

"You paid my rent."

"Well…that's because, I was paying for my own and it was easier to pay for the both of us. I still expect you to pay me back."

"Mm-hmm."

"I am _not_ caring, patient, loving, or compassionate in any sort of way, whatsoever…" Max assured himself. "I would have stayed in college, come home more often, actually keep in touch with my parents-"

"Hey, Max," interrupted a yawning Jude.

"What?"

"Shove it."

And much to his surprise, the American obliged. Jude fell into a stuffy, but peaceful slumber, finding his mate's lap exceptionally comfortable and warm. It wasn't long before Max nodded off also, resting his head against the back of the couch.

Just as before, Lucy arrived home late, throwing her keys to the kitchen table. Max, always a light sleeper, mumbled sleepily at this disturbance and slowly came out of his unconscious daze.

"Mmph…hey, Luce," he muttered, stretching a little. His sister beamed lovingly at him.

"I see you two had…or are having a nice nap."

"I guess…"

"I suggest you move it to his bedroom, though. Sadie's on her way in from her gig with about fifty people in tow."

Max groaned and carefully shifted Jude off of him, pushing himself out of the couch. Lucy looked at her boyfriend in dismay.

"He looks so exhausted, I'd really hate to wake him up-"

"Stop right there, missy. I am _not_ carrying his ass anywhere. I already came close to burning down the entire apartment building because of him…"

She shot her brother a quizzical glance. "What?" Max shut his eyes and let out a tired chuckle before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Nothing, forget I said anything. I'm going to bed. G'Night."

"Goodnight…" She shook her head, wondering what possibly those two could have been up to while she was gone. She heard loud voices begin to echo in the outside hall, and realized that she should probably disturb her peacefully slumbering boyfriend. She walked over to him, and shook him gently. His eyes fluttered open, squinting at her vaguely. Lucy smiled at him.

"Hey…Sadie's having an after party here in about…well, in about ten seconds, so you might need to move if you want some sleep."

Jude nodded and slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, stretching a little.

"How are you feeling?" she inquired.

"A bit better. I might be able to consume some food in the morning…where's your brother?"

"He went to bed."

"I think I might do the same. Goodnight, love," he said, stealing a quick kiss before shuffling off into his bedroom.

Lucy walked back into the kitchen, making sure it would be in decent shape before the horde of people came through. It looked fine, except for a few glasses that had fallen to the floor and a stray pot. As she put these things away, she couldn't help but wonder why the kitchen smelled like a mix between English tea and burnt fabric.

--

**Please review!**


End file.
